Covet Thy Mother and Father
by Silverbulletsdeath
Summary: Ragnarok's gone after the miesters find out about Crona's betrayal. Now Crona is traveling around with a weapon who wants to be a witch and who has convinced him to join her on her quest to kill their parents.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: I'm working on so many things at the moment. So, you know, I decided to start something new. Give me a second (hits head hard). Oh well, here's the first chapter: Oh yes, in this Crona is a guy. Why? Mostly because I said so. Yes, I know there is more proof he is a girl, and near the end I've got to say I lean more toward he is a girl. But I've decided that for my needs he's a guy. Deal with it. Why? Because there is enough unclear fog that I can't say for sure which he is for sure. Also, I've only seen the anime, the manga actually kind of bored me.

Music: What a Shame by Shinedown

Summary: Ragnarok, Ragnarok is gone and Crona is now left with a weapon who wishes she is witch, and who is determined to kill their parents, and not knowing whether his mother or former friends are going to be the death of him first. Combine that with a little romance, a lot of blood, questionable morals, and a new interest in anatomy and Crona is way over his head.

Warning: this chap not much but an OC, whole thing… yaoi, smut (maybe), violence, yuri, cross-dressing, gender confusion in general, some characters acting like close-minded pricks, abuse, neglect, general family problems/hatred. AU, but after what will be up to you to decide.

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Not mine or there'd actually be strong female character. Belongs to Atsushi Okubo and published by Square Enix apparently (shrugs).

Chapter One

As the Sky Falls

Crona curled a little around his stomach. It hurt. He had suffered so long and when he finally had found a semblance freedom he was looking for, all he felt was hurt and empty. Ragnarok had been part of his life since he was a child, as much as he had resented the Demon Sword, he had also been a constant companion. Now he was gone, driven to pieces by a betrayed Maka and Soul. Crona shivered, and here he was, now making sure that the Sword would never return to his life.

Lavender hair stuck to the young man's face as he forced himself forward. Why did she have to live in such a remote and unfriendly area? He wasn't sure how he was going to deal with her as it was. He had met her, briefly, he didn't remember much about her, and most of what he did know his mother had told him. She was the daughter of a powerful witch who had interest similar to his mother but with little power of her own and had isolated herself away from the rest of the world to concentrate on "body" magic during her "trial" period. The last he'd heard of this specific witch was she that she was still trying to learn the basics, but had perfected spells that specifically had to do with the body, which he supposed was "body" magic. Maybe she could fix him.

"Who's there…" the voice was shaky, cautious and shivering. Crona almost sighed in relief. There had also been a rumor that the witch had killed several of her sisters to help expand her powers, but it seemed that the other was just cautious, so scared by her lack of power she hid herself in the desert.

"Listen, I've got some nasty roots here that'll force you into your animal and you will stay that way until you find someone else. So I suggest you leave," hissed the witch, though the threat was ruined a little by the slight hitch in her voice. Crona laughed weakly anyway. He wouldn't turn into anything. He wasn't a witch.

"Who's is… who are you?" Crona looked up through sweaty bangs to see the witch crouched a few feet from him just staring.

"Who are you? What do you want?" she was trying to sound forceful, and her tone pitched slightly at the end with fear. Perhaps his black dress was making him appear as an enemy.

"Crona, I need your…" his mouth was gummy and dry. The words stuck with a darkening vision. The world had stopped spinning and his breathing caught.

"No don't…" but fainting was fun, and the sand would probably be more comfortable then some of the areas he had passed out in. Hopefully the witch wouldn't kill him on principle.

--

His head hurt. Why did he get a headache after passing out? No matter what, even if he hadn't hit his head, he always had some kind of headache. It seemed like a requirement at this point. Now his mouth was a desert, his body couldn't decide if it was hot or cold, and he had a headache. There was probably more wrong with him, but those were the ones he could diagnose at the moment.

"Are you really Crona?" he turned. She was mildly pretty, reminded him of Maka a little. She had long blonde hair, bushy, with two small braids done from the bangs and trailing back. Her face was rounded, checked with pimples just below the surface. She had red eyes and a flattened nose. Her clothes were rather standard for a witch, black with a pointy hat, small black gloves, a puffy purple-undersided skirt, multicolored leggings and standard high buckled boots. "My face is a hell of a lot more north, though at least you're not looking at my cleavage."

Crona turned an interesting color, and then buried himself under the covers.

"I don't know how to deal with something like that," he shouted and squirmed under the covers in protest. He almost thought he'd hear Ragnarok's voice telling him something like he could kill her, or picking on him, but there was nothing, his blood didn't even flow quicker in his veins.

"Hey, I didn't even do anything why are you crying!" and now the witch was getting worked up. "I know! I'll make some tea! Tea fixes everything! At least now I know you're Crona, with an answer like…"

And she fell on the ground.

"Are you alright?" asked Crona peaking from his covers to see the underside of her skirt. He faltered; face tensing as he hid again. "I don't know how to deal with it!"

"At least I'm wearing leggings, or you'd have… Oh, please get out of the covers, you have to drink something for the dehydration!" said the witch. "Come on, you remember me, I'm Death Light, remember? We met when we were young; our bitch mothers hate each other because they're trying for different thing the same way."

"You remember me?" asked Crona, sticking his head from the covers. The witch was dusting off her skirt and gave him a smile before sitting back in the chair by the bed.

"Of course, we had quite the adventure when we were little," said the witch picking up a glass of water off the stand. It shook in her hands as she handed it over to Crona. It only shook a little less in his hands.

"I remember that," he said with a small smile. It had been the only time someone had forced him to deal with a situation without resorting to madness, in fact, when he had started to slip Death Light had slapped him until Ragnarok was out cold. "When you did that trick, I thought that'd you'd turn out to be a witch even more powerful than my mom."

"Well, my specialty will always be with the body, but I use my powers for more benign reasons. Mostly helping medically for weary travelers, though there is a group nearby that relies on my magic from time to time. Now Crona, what brings you here? Not trying to recruit me for your mother are you? I'll just disappear," warned Death Light with a slight smile while her hands strangled her skirt. Crona smiled nervously and some of the water slipped between his teeth. He swallowed.

"No, I came to ask a favor," said Crona and then thought about the right way of asking.

"Ah, well, let's see, the last time I saw you there was some sort of Sword inside of you," said the girl and she fished out a cigarette. "You mind if I smoke?"

She was still shaking a little. Crona shook her head.

"Well," Death Light took a drag of smoke and let it pass her lips slowly. "I don't think there's much I can do in that situation. He's bound to you for life; you can't survive without the other. I could try to take some his power away so he can't bully you so much I suppose."

The cigarettes seemed to be helping her to relax. Her fingers only trembled ever so slightly and her gaze seemed leveled and calculating looking down at the technician.

"He's dead," said Crona and tried to stop the tears that wanted to fall. "They killed him when they found out I was still working for my mother."

"Who found out?" asked Death Light, her entire body looked tense.

"Maka, Shinigami, Soul, technicians, weapons…"

"One second, that's the enemy, what were you doing with them?" demanded the witch.

"Yes they were trying to teach me how to be a good meister," said Crona while fiddling with the sheets.

"While you were spying for your mother," Death Light clarified and then sighed. "How did they find out? Your mother tell them it was you as an experiment? Or did that demon sword of yours do something stupid?"

"They saw her or something. Ragnarok said some really stupid things, but if he hadn't I don't think I would have gotten away alive," said Crona and then shivered. He could only imagine the death that would have awaited him at their hands. He would have been defenseless, and they were too angry to worry about the ethics of torturing someone.

"Hm, well, I'll see what I can do, for the moment rest and drink, not too much, I don't want you vomiting all over my covers," said Death Light standing. She stared down at the sad looking Crona for a second and then sighed. She leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Crona's forehead. "Don't worry about it so much. You'll find working without anyone is much easier, trust me."

Crona didn't feel reassured. He didn't want to be alone. He didn't know how to deal with something like that. It had been so long since he had been alone. The very first memories were still with Ragnarok, bursting himself from Crona's back and besieging him with abuse and pain. He had grown used to it. It was something of a routine that he could easily fall into. What would he do without the Demon Sword? He was a meister; he needed his weapon to defend himself. Without a weapon he was useless, left open to attacks from anywhere. It was crazy, especially getting rid of the black blood, but what else could he do? He wasn't even sure if it was death he feared anymore, it felt like something more sinister then that. But it couldn't be madness, he knew what that felt like. A creeping along his back that set his toes curling and his hair on end.

He'd been stupid, and Maka had been so upset with him. It probably hadn't helped that Ragnarok had to then give his two cense about the situation. It sucked, really, he found a family member that he might be able to get along with and what did he do? Screw it up royally.

"Hey, come on Crona, you need to drink something," the black blooded boy blinked in surprise as the cup was put in front of him. He drank it greedily, not realizing how thirsty he was until the cool liquid touched his parched lips. "No, I'm sorry, but we have to be careful with this. Give the water time to settle. And keep the covers on; you'll need them when you feel cold again."

"Cold?" asked Crona as sweaty fell in rivers down his body.

"You've been having hot and cold flashes all afternoon. That battle did a number on you, it's surprising that you made it this far to be truthful," said Death Light and brushing at Crona's forehead with a towel. "It looks like I'll have to put you up for a few more days before I can take the black out of your blood."

"You can take away the madness?" asked Crona excitedly.

"I'm not sure about that," said Death Light, not looking at him and her hands tapping against the places she smoothed down methodically. "But I think that I can get rid of the black. I'm not positive mind you. I may just end up draining you of all your blood. The black might have combined too permanently with your blood. It's your call."

"I want it gone," said Crona with a sigh, looking with even saggier eyes than normal at the ceiling. "I don't want to deal with it in my blood anymore."

"I can understand that, I suppose, and on the off chance you do die it doesn't sound like I'll have to worry about too many people looking for you… alive anyway," said Death Light with light humor. She ground some green herbs into the water and pressed the glass against Crona's lips again. "Well, we'll see how you feel in the morning. The sun's just falling asleep now."

"No food?" asked Crona turning to see Death Light standing, her gaze still off to the side.

"No, not good. When you leave I'll give enough food with instructions on the dehydration. Some of it might be hard to follow because of your journeying," said Death Light and he noticed that she was taking out another cigarette.

"I can't stay here?" asked Crona, not actually expecting much out of the witch.

"You want to bring your troubles to my doorsteps?" asked Death Light without turning back to him.

"I might have brought it just by being here," said Crona grabbing at his arm. "And I might be able to help?"

"Oh, really?" asked Death Light, her voice crystallizing slightly. "I suppose that Ragnarok had no control over how you moved."

Crona blushed and pushed himself under the covers. He hadn't expected anything different, not really. Death Light placed the glass on the table next to him with a slight click and was out the door with a light thump. She probably wanted to go out for a quick smoke, settle her nerves again. It seemed that Death Light had taken to depending only on herself and living a life of seclusion. While he had been left to a life with his mother and Ragnarok constantly as his companions. Whether for bad or good he had never learned how to be alone.

"I don't know how to deal with this," he said weakly into his covers. He couldn't cry, that would waste water anyway. At the worse Death Light would throw him out as soon as she got rid of the black blood. At best she would give him a day to rest and then throw him out the day after. Sleep was a covering, away to escape from the bleeding moon.

"Hey come on Crona, I gotta get you water and prepped," Crona looked up in confusion. Maka's voice and wasn't this soft or shaky. A witch's hat made him start suddenly. He looked up to see a surprised and slightly shaky Death Light looking down at him in surprise. Right, his friends had found him out after Stein had gone insane. Ragnarok had been destroyed; he was now making sure that that was true.

"Thank you Death Light," said Crona and gave her a small smile and drank down the water before the witch took the cup with an irritated. Right, she had told him not to drink too quickly. But he was so thirsty. "Do I really need all these blankets?"

"Just in case," said Death Light shaking her head. She pushed them down and started tugging up on Crona's dress. Crona turned an angry red and started pushing back on the hands. "Stop that, you have boxers on right? I need access to your skin to make this work."

"You know how to fix it already?" asked Crona his eyes looking away as he felt a cool breeze blow against him.

"I think," said Death Light and moved took off her gloves. She placed her cold hands on his ankles and started to rub. "It's the best I think I'll ever come up with. I know the body inside and out, and the longer we wait the better chance that it will build enough for Regnarok to reappear, and even if you end up missing him, I think the world is better off without the Demon Sword."

"You're not a very good witch, not wanting to stir things up," mumbled Crona as the witch started moving up his body. Her eyes fixed on the section her hands were rubbing against.

"If I was a good witch, I would be part of a coven, have joined your aunt Anachre or whatever your aunts name is, or at least do something malevolent with the spells at my disposal," said Death Light and then chuckled, her hands moved to press just inside Crona's boxers. "Damn, and here I was half expecting frilly girly underwear with that dress."

"That's not a nice thing to say," muttered Crona and tried to keep his gaze away from the pressing hands. They weren't arousing or anything, each time she ended there was a sharp pinch in the area she was touching, but it was still a girl who was touching him so thoroughly.

"How did your friends react to you wearing that horrid dress anyway? You tell them it was for some weird religious reason?" Death Light still didn't seem to be paying attention to him. It was odd, he wondered if she talked to everyone who came for help this way. Just keep talking to their body parts and watch how they respond. Maybe she pretended whatever body part she was talking to was responding. She seemed jumpy around people, but confident in her knowledge of the body.

"I think they thought I was a girl," said Crona trying to lie completely still as the fingers traveled under his armpits. "My mother might have said I was her daughter. So the dress was rather common place."

"You're kidding me," Death Light paused with her hands and giggled at Cron'a s arm and then picked up the black blooded boys wrist and started pushing in. "Though that's not too surprising, your mother always did want a daughter."

"And she got me instead," said Crona sadly. Death Light stopped him from curling and he was looking into those blood eyes and a sort smile on her lips.

"She should have realized the gift she had. At least she won't trouble you anymore," said Death Light and then took Crona's other arm.

"I doubt that, she'll see it that way. She'll probably hunt me down," said Crona miserably.

"She won't find you if you hide yourself well. And don't whine about her snakes. My mother's animal is the fly and she hasn't found me yet, and believe me, after that last fight she's been looking for a while," said Death Light with a nervous laugh.

"But I found you," pointed out Crona in confusion.

"Yes well, I can whip up a spell like that. Yours will actually probably be a bit more useful as long as you don't settle in a populated area," said Death Light with a small smile. "See, mine let's people in need find me. So, yes, if my mother had some physical ailment that I could treat, then she could in most likely find me. But for you. I'd suggest settling down somewhere overseas, change your hair color, get colored lenses if you can, change your name, your background, and as much of your personality as you can manage, and don't get close to any witch or shifty character. Also either go for densely populated or practically deserted. Don't trust those small towns, they can have some seriously messed up shit going on in the background and they will drag you down with them."

"So, you think this'll work, since I found you?" asked Crona nervously.

"There is a good chance," said Death Light. "Now I need you to relax." She reached the juncture between the neck and shoulder and pulled. Suddenly he couldn't feel anything below his neck. "Stop hyperventilating, and don't tell me you don't know how to deal with this or I will seriously duck tape your mouth closed."

"How is this going to work?" asked Crona instead, his eyes shaking since his body couldn't.

"I'm going to send a potion through your blood stream; it will catch the black blood and bring it to your right wrist where the cleared blood will be able to move forward, the black should have attached itself to the potion. You'll be low in blood, but I should be able to replace it. I'm going to be hurrying the process a bit so I can coach you on how to recover and put that spell on you in the morning and send you on your way," said Death Light, dragging out a bucket of dark green goop that looked like pounded spinach with a touch of olive. Smelled like it to. She then took out an empty bucket and put it on the floor. "Now, before I do this I need you to chew on these until you're to numb to do so anymore. Don't worry about feeling any of this; you'll be so out of it that even if you do die it'll be like falling into a drugged sleep nice and peaceful."

Crona sighed but did as he was told. Death Light didn't want him to stick around, the longer he was there the more chance of his mother tracking him down and giving away Death Light's current position away. He knew that, it's just he really didn't know how to deal with being alone, and no matter how many times he told himself that she would throw him out he couldn't help but hope she would change her mind, let him stay, give him some sort of job. She didn't even have to be nice to him or anything. He was used to being degraded and hated, he was used to beatings and going sometimes days without meals.

"I just…" he stumbled his tongue clumsy. The room appeared to be spinning slightly. "I just…"

There was a pinch on one of his arms. He hardly had the will to flinch and he felt himself gently rocked into a shallow sleep with Death Light's tuneless humming.

----

"WAKE UP!" his heart felt like it was beating out of his chest. The fluttering was faster than a mouse and he hardly could catch his breath. "Breathe you stupid yuppie."

Odd his mother didn't uselessly curve on the insults like that.

"That's because I'm not your mother you stupid trolup, now get up before I set fire to your ass to get you moving, we're under attack," said Death light with irritated clipped voice. Crona was up and running from their "safe area" in less than a second. This was good because a demons claw broke apart the wood in a flurry of shrapnel. They dodged to the best of their ability and Crona noticed that almost the entire house had been leveled.

"Damn it and the blood hadn't quite been purged yet, there's still black blood in your veins, and I was so close still," said Death Light, spitting slightly. "When I get my hands on them."

"What's going on?" asked Crona and glanced up from their new hiding place. On second glance he noticed that only half of Death's Light was now strewn across the desert. Though, now that he could virtually see all of it and the inside he noticed the back had something like a greenhouse, with dead plants now invading the ground, some becoming quite agitated in face of their destruction. Besides that there appeared to be a hoard of demons. "There's no way that they sent those after me."

"Not even your mother?" asked Death Light irritably and grabbed Crona, taking him away from another attack.

"She doesn't control a horde of demons," squeaked Crona and tears sprang into his eyes as he was dragged away.

"No, but if she got together with my father… well, how do you feel about working together?" asked Death Light dragging them into a well hidden area. Demons were generally more dense than humans. Proof of the fact was they were now just tearing around blindly trying to find them when they had been in plain sight only a minute ago.

"What, but you…" said Crona and then made a whining noise in his throat. Death Light held her hand against his mouth.

"Don't tell me you don't know how to deal," said Death Light. "You ever think there's a reason that I live alone?"

"Wh-" it was hard to talk with a hand over ones mouth.

"I'm not technically a witch. I just know some tricks that allow me to pass as one, but what I really am is a weapon," said Death Light and she brought one hand back where the fingers fell together in a slice of metal. "And no, not a demon weapon. I'm just a weapon, trying to stay away from that sort of corruption. But you said you had a weapon, which means that you are a technician. That was why Medusa kept you alive, right? Because you could be of use that way. So, use me instead. It shouldn't be too hard, right?"

Death Light took her hand off Crona's mouth and looked at him imploringly.

"I don't…" trembled Crona, his heart still felt like it was beating a mile a minute, and whatever had knocked him out for the procedure was making him a little dizzy.

"We don't have time for you to learn how to dea-" but they were flying in seconds, their protective hideout destroyed by a reckless swipe of demon claws. Crona somehow landed on his feet with Death Light beside him. He frowned; he could almost hear Regnarok telling him to kill. And these were demons. Demons were meant to be killed; he knew that, that's what they had been trying to tell him. He glanced to the side. He didn't even know if he was a true meister, and he didn't know if he'd be able to use her. But Death Light was looking at him with hope, so he took her hand.

He brought her in front, the weight changing instantly in his hands. Crona let a gentle breath loose. He could only see her for a moment, but that was enough to send chills down his spine. Mostly because she felt right, even more right than Regnarok had. Of course, there was also the fact that she was beautiful. Which was odd thing to say about a weapon he thought. She was slender under his fingers, a flush of movable metal shaped as a fan, and trailing from where he gripped were ribbons, ones that seemed to extend toward delicacy instead of battle.

The first demon came at Crona hard. He moved to the side more from instinct than anything else. He moved with precision, dodging the demons claws and moving fluidly through the demon with a swipe of his fan. He moved with grace over the sand. He caught his footing as a new red soul appeared in front of him. Pain, Crona turned and swiped, destroying the thing that had caught his shoulder. He'd have to be more careful, Regnarok wasn't there to stop the blood flow or turn his blood into anything helpful. It was a bit of a bother, Death Light was just a weapon, a separate being than himself, and she wouldn't fight for him. Still, she felt so light in his hands. He didn't know how to fight, but her light weight allowed him to jump and move around with ease.

Of course his lack of concentration almost got him killed and only a last minute move away from three converging demons. The very air drained him. Still, he easily killed the first one with one swipe, and then using one of the ribbons he threw the fan. Crona chuckled; he didn't think that Death Light would like him talking about her as if she were only an object.

A blade bit into his shoulder, and he gasped.

"Would you pay attention!" shouted the weapon. Crona caught Death Light's reflection on the surface. "Stop acting like some sort of dreamy girl or we're both dead. I can't fight by myself, I can't get the sliding blades right and cut down the… damnit Crona pay attention!"

The shout just saved him again. A quick move had the demon a red soul. There were too many of them, all bearing down on only him and Death Light. Crona swallowed. He had killed a hundred men before under his mother's spell, and yet there seemed to be nothing that he could do against all of them. Not with Death Light. She couldn't save him, not the way Regnarok could.

"Why you little…" and another one was torn to pieces. But still, at this rate they were dead. Death Light was new, and obviously only knew the basics of her own power, which meant that she had no idea what any other tricks she might have were. She wasn't even close to size that most weapons were. Just a little big for a normal fan with irritating ribbons that Crona was half scared that he'd trip over them instead of getting her back like last time.

He bounced with a back flip over the next demon, hardly landing a scratch on its back in the confusion. Crona swore as he landed in the sand, right in the middle of a group of demons. There were too many… he had to stop being so pessimistic, Death Light couldn't fight by herself. They were in the middle of the desert with nothing around and over one hundred demons. There was nowhere to hide. Even in the forest there was no clear place. Demons could sniff him out once they stopped acting moronic and got his scent.

He caught the talons of the next and threw one of ribbons into the next demons chest… because he apparently could do that. He rolled under the things legs. Something caught him on the shoulder and blood stung his eyes. Crona blinked his eyes in irritation. This sucked. But they had no choice, he couldn't runaway. He could just scream and be mauled down, but that wouldn't be fair to Death Light, she had taken her time and resources to try and get rid of the black blood, and now he was letting his now red blood splash all over the sand.

It was over before he knew it. He cursed his luck. He'd done so well, it had been a lucky hit, there were only a few left and now he was falling to ground. It had to be fatal. Well, maybe Death Light could fend for herself now.

---

"Shit, you stupid boy, the next time you're going to fall into blood lust, you warn me," snapped Death Light. She ran a hand through her hair. Cursing she wondered what she could do. Not much, not in this situation. Still, the demons had run away, and Crona was still breathing. But he'd lost too much blood.

"Unless, but that's… I'll have to do a test," she muttered to herself. She glanced at Crona in irritation and sighed. She needed him now. The demons would get back to her father, he'd find out she was a weapon, Medusa would find out she was a weapon. "Let's just skip the whole parents force us together. Well, I guess in a way that's what they're forcing us to do."

Death Light dragged Crona's dead weight across the desert, trying ignore the blood that followed in his wake. She set him on her counter, one of the few things left in one piece. Her house was a wreck, destroyed. "They're not going to let us go Crona. They're going to force us to be together one way or another, and I refuse to let myself fall into evil after all these years."

Death Light found the remains of the plant she wanted. It was stupid. This wasn't a good idea. But just finding Crona's body… no, Crona had never done anything wrong. To let him die would be a sort of evil. She had promised that she'd always try to save anyone that needed it. And Crona needed it, even if he was apparently a cross-dresser. But that wasn't his fault, he had a messed up childhood thanks to Medusa. Still, she could fix that. There was no way he was wearing anything that tacky if they were going to be traveling together.

But first thing first. She had to save his life.

Finding a sampling of his blood was laughably easy. And it looked like a match. Well, if it was the only way. There was not clear what would happen. She could just be damning herself. But Death Light had not been lying, she couldn't fight on her own, she couldn't seem to make it work, and being tossed around in Crona's hands seemed so natural that she knew she would have to be wielded. So, that meant making sure that he had enough blood.

It wasn't hard to find her equipment. She knew this was going to be crude, but her test had also shown poison in his blood. It might just be the residue black blood. But with Cona having hid blood already beating fast through his body and the blood spilling from his many wounds he'd acquired. Death Light wondered if Crona realized he'd fought in only his underwear. Death Light tried to stifle a giggle. She bandaged him quickly, running her herbs over the open wounds and dipping her own hands in cleansing water so she wouldn't be poisoned.

She moved quickly finding her tubes, bag, herbs. He would have to be quieted a little, plus a little extra to help remove the poison. She prepped her needle and quickly shoved it into his skin and started to take some calming drugs herself. She could do this. If she went fast enough she could save him and have someone with fighting experience on her side. All she needed to do was do this right. She connected them and through her spirit energy into what needed to be done. She felt the herbs catch the action.

Death Light hoped that no demon came back, because for at least the next twenty-four hours they were going to be dead to the world. Death Light smiled lazily as she slowly lowered herself. Her arm ached from where she'd been stuck the needle, but that was in the past, and she was quickly falling asleep, her eyes drifting closed. This had to work. Was her only hope as she fell asleep, lacing her hands lazily with her new friend.


	2. Chapter 2

Authors note: It was noted in one review they (I think they thought) this was going to be a romance between Crona and my OC. It's not, though they are going to be the central characters if that's what you meant. I'd suggest you'd check the warnings to know what sort of pairings I'm making this fic, and also check the two main characters because that's the dead give-away.

Music: Rebirthing by Skillet

Summary: Ragnarok, Ragnarok is gone and Crona is now left with a weapon who wishes she is witch, and who is determined to kill their parents, and not knowing whether his mother or former friends are going to be the death of him first. Combine that with a little romance, a lot of blood, questionable morals, and a new interest in anatomy and Crona is way over his head.

Warning: this chap not much but an OC, whole thing… yaoi, smut (maybe), violence, yuri, cross-dressing, gender confusion in general, some characters acting like close-minded pricks, abuse, neglect, general family problems/hatred. AU, but after what will be up to you to decide.

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Not mine or there'd actually be strong female character. Belongs to Atsushi Okubo and published by Square Enix apparently (shrugs).

Chapter Two

They Believe in Ghosts

Crona turned and dug deeper into the warmth. He was comfortable, and he wanted to go back and continue that conversation about pickled eggs with Maka. It had been vital and would have changed everything. Why had it been so important? Well, it had been, and he wanted to go back to that conversation. Plus, his body felt like it was going to sink into the ground. It ached and stung, and there was no way he was going back to sleep.

It was bright when he tried to force his eyes open. He blinked and groaned. Still, this wasn't so bad; he had definitely come closer to death before this. At the moment all he seemed to have acquired were just a few bumps and bruises, and his blood felt odd. Crona chuckled to himself. He was probably one of the few people who monitored his own blood. Then again, he had to know when it was going dark, when the black blood was activating and Regnarok was coming out to kill. Now it just felt weird.

"Death Light," gasped Crona and moved so suddenly that the thing in his arm came out with a painful tug. Crona glanced over and saw the device. His eyes watched the tubing and realized that the contraption had, by the looks of it, been circulating his and Death Light's blood, but by the dried blood in the bags the process had ended some time ago.

"But why would she..?" not that Crona wasn't grateful, but why would the girl risk contamination? He knew that he still had black blood in him, only a little, but enough that it was possible to activate it. Was there now some in Death Light thanks to whatever she had done?

"Death Light," Crona started to push at the witch – weapon, whichever she was. He felt for her pulse. Oh no, he couldn't find it.

"You're not looking in the right place," was the stuttered mutter. Crona felt tears of happiness touch his eyes. "Stop crying. Damn, I need to get us some clothes."

Death Light moved away from the overly emotional Crona. Crona wondered for a second what the other meant by clothes and then looked down on himself… he didn't have any clothes on! With a squeak he covered his privates and whipped his head around as if to check that no one else was looking at him. He then looked back with wide eyes at Death Light, and was forced to squeak in mortification again.

"Why are you undressing in front of me!" he screamed throwing his hands in front of his eyes.

"I thought that it would even us out," said Death Light with only a slight worse stutter than usual.

"I don't know how deal!" screamed Crona. He heard Death Light sigh and cloth rustle. He seriously hoped that she was dressing. "Are you going away now?"

"No," Crona stopped his rocking. Was it possible that she had changed her mind and now thought that it a better idea to go with Crona? Death Light's home had been destroyed, it was made sense she would use Crona to get to another safe area. Death Light obviously had tried to suppress her weapon side and now was unable to use it herself. Crona could use her. The weapon side since was incapable of using herself. Crona could use her. They were able to sync enough for Crona to use her. No question about that. Not after the fight the day before, at elast he thought it had happened the day before. "There's no real good covered area to change, I might as well change here."

"Oh," said Crona, all his hopes dashed against the stones.

"Don't sound so unhappy about it, you wimp, you'll probably have plenty of times to see me naked during travels, I'm sure we'll embarrass each other to no end what with our respective upbringings," muttered Death Light with some choice swears thrown in. Apparently when she got angry her stutter became more of a hiss. It was actually kinda creepy to listen to, Crona preferred the stutter.

"You don't have to call me a wimp," muttered Crona and then smiled up at Death Light who dumped clothing on his head as she came over. He blushed harder and started sorting through the clothes, casting a quick glance at Death Light who had moved away and started to go through the debris for anything she could salvage.

"Stop that, I won't look I promise," said Death Light. Crona blushed and mumbled to himself as he started to slip into some of Death Light's stuff. He blinked in surprise. She had given him everything, even underwear, though it looked new. Was she alright with it then, his cross-dressing, somehow he had thought that would be a problem with her. "You done?"

"Don't stand so close if you're not looking!" screamed Crona backing himself into a chest high wall. Death Light looked at him in shock and then down at the floor where Crona had changed.

"Are you seriously wearing a bra?" asked Death Light with a sneer.

"You gave it to me," squeaked Crona and then looked down his new shirt to see the slightly baggy bra. "Though it's a bit bigger then my usual one."

"You weren't wearing one when you came," said Death Light huffily and looking a little annoyed and lost. This wasn't going to end well.

"I didn't have time," said Crona and then felt tears prick his eyes as Death Light looked slightly disgusted with him. "Are you going to stop being my friend now?"

"What? No, I met your mother, remember? I know you're messed up, I'll just have to fix it," she picked up a piece of plant and shoved it into a pack before starting to scrounge around again.

"Fix it?" asked Crona, daring to stand a little and then looked over at Death Light in confusion. His face then colored and he glared at Death Light. "I don't need fixing."

"Right," drawled Death, pulling at a door blocked by rocks and part of a couch. "Nothing wrong with a boy who thinks he's a girl and probably wears a thong if he could."

"Well, they are more comfortable," said Crona grabbing at one of the demon souls. He jumped at the funny noise from behind him and saw Death Light looking at him in terror. She took a deep breath in and then out and returned to stuffing her pack with random destroyed plants and so on. "But I know I'm a boy."

"Great," muttered Death Light and shook her head, muttering something about serious fixing and Crona sighed, deciding it would be best to drop the issue for the time being. He had five demon souls already, how many demons had they killed? "Oi, what are you doing?"

Crona glanced up to see Death Light walking toward him, heavy pack resting on her shoulders. Crona bunched up the red spirits and started to look for more. It wasn't hard; they were littered across the desert. "I'm finding demon spirits for you to eat."

"I thought I told you already that I was not going to become a demon weapon," snapped Death Light, stomping at him. Crona looked at her in confusion.

"But weapons are supposed to eat demon souls," said Crona and immediately cowered under the angered glare he got from his friend. "What I mean is that weapons are supposed to eat demon souls. Not human ones, human ones will make one lose your soul. But somehow by eating demon souls they purify them."

"Really?" asked Death Light playing with one of the red souls, letting her fingers run along it as she flicked it idly in her hands. "Are you sure?"

"When I was with the other's I saw training death scythe eat them. It had something to do with them becoming a death scythe, graduating or something, I never really got it. But eating demon souls is supposed to purify it," said Crona, and he passed by to go and start gathering another group of demon souls.

"What about Witch Souls?" asked Death Light pocking at one of the demon souls.

"I think they eat them to destroy them," said Crona bringing over the next batch of souls before going for more. This time Death Light followed him, watching in interest as he gathered more.

"Does eating one make a scythe more powerful?" asked Death Light, watching Crona work with detached interest. She'd obviously gotten what she needed from the wreckage. Crona sent a weak smile her way.

"Maybe, I heard something about it," said Crona with a shrug, continuing to pick up an armful before returning to the rest.

"You should have paid more attention," said Death Light and Crona turned to see that she was pouting. "Hey, Crona, could you do me a favor?"

"Hm? Sure," said Crona and tugged a little at the skirt he was wearing as he went to get the next batch of souls. Death Light was a bit shorter than him and also wore shorter skirts. This one was a little uncomfortable. It barely came to his knees and had more movement then he was used to. That was probably because the skirt usually flared over the weapons witch ruffles.

"Okay," Death Light skipped in front of Crona. "Now I need you to close your eyes and hold out your hand fingers spread. A little higher. Good. Alright, now just think back to what it felt like when Ragnarok materialized. What it felt like when he used your blood as a weapon, to materialize and – good," said Death Light as an odd slipping noise pervaded the air. The sound of thin metal moving against each other. Crona, wondering why Death Light might have decided to turn part way into a weapon again opened his eyes to see that she had turned her hand into a fan again a foot from his face.

"What?" But he trailed off. Death Light's arms were at her side, one gripping at her bag and another at the strap at her bag. Crona's eyes widened and looked back at the pale arm attached to the fan-hand. It was able and sickly, like it had never seen the sun, constantly shadowed by long black sleeves. He followed them on, the thin arms without muscles making him wonder how they could hold themselves up, and then all the way to short-puffy purple sleeves that Death Light had lent him. He screamed.

"By the witch!" shouted Death Light jumping back and away from the screaming cross-dresser. "Shut up!"

Crona kept screaming and started swinging his hand around, which made Death Light scream and run away from him. Finally she stuffed her hands in her bag and shuffled through some plants, crumpled up some yellow ones and threw them at Crona. Who screamed because some of it got in his mouth and then he suddenly couldn't scream anymore and he was slumping to the ground.

He had a good look at his hand. It seemed to be back to normal, which was good, though he'd like to know why it changed in the first place. It was nice that his blood was no longer a sticky black, but why was he changing into a weapon like Death Light? Did it have to do with them exchanging blood? That had to be it, nothing else made sense.

"Death Light, what did you do?" whined Crona. Death Light moved so that she was in his line of sight. She made a face at him while rolling her eyes at his pasty voice, dampened because of the plant she'd thrown at him. It was impressive the cross-dresser was talking at all.

"I paralyzed you so that you'd stop freaking out. Don't worry, it'll wear off in five minutes and then we'll split the demon souls between us, do they have any restorative abilities?" asked Death Light in confusion. There was a lull in the air.

"Makes weapons stronger – I think, and that's not that I meant," said Crona and tried to frown at the girl. Death Light rolled her eyes.

"I'll go collect the rest, and if we have an uneven number of souls you'll get the extra one," said Death Light and moved away. They went to the last two groups and collected them while Crona glared gently at the ground. He started to feel slowly. His fingers tingling with the after effects, like they had simply fallen asleep and not been paralyzed… not that he had been paralyzed before.

"Of course, the reason you're now an official weapon is probably my fault," reflected Death Light. She dropped all the souls to float at waist height in front of Crona. Crona moved his fingers slightly, but couldn't get his head higher than an inch. "I am sorry about that, I suppose. But it turned out that a good deal more than I thought of the black in your blood made up what was in there. You were already drained of a good amount when I woke up, and you were bleeding profusely, so I did the only thing I could think of. Now we need to eat, get on one of the few brooms I have left and fly to the nearest tribe. They'll take us in for the night. I've done allot for the tribe for little to no charge, though they may not really like a witch being there."

"But you're not really a witch," said Crona, propping himself up and continuing to move his body as much as he could. The constant movement at least appeared to be working, and it helped to deal with the odd stinging tingles as his body starting working in his favor again. "If you just stopped wearing that stuff people wouldn't have to worry."

"I have to," said Death Light and then glared at the shoe that Crona had thrown at her.

"You do not, you're not a witch, and you don't have to wear those clothes," said Crona with a scowl. Death Light sent him a nasty look and he dropped the argument in favor of living. Finally Crona was standing and silently eating the demon souls that Death Light had given him. He found it interesting. There wasn't so much a taste to them, but there was a slight stinging sensation in his throat that seemed to loosen it and slide down his throat. The sensation was soothing with a gentle tang that he found almost addicting.

Crona lifted his head to glance at Death Light who looked like she was also enjoying herself. She glared when she noticed Crona and the boy couldn't help but sigh. He had hoped that they would become friends, but perhaps that was asking too much. Still, she had been one of the people who had been nice to him when he was young. Not that it couldn't be easily explained away. Death Light had been young then, not as jagged as the young woman in front of him. Now he was looking at someone who wasn't used to letting anyone near her.

"So," said Death Light slipping out of her broom. "Let me explain exactly what we're doing."

"And she grows a backbone," muttered Crona with an irritated sigh and then cringed under the glare Death Light sent his way.

"Anyway, we're going to have to kill our parents," said Death Light running a hand across the floating broom.

"What?" demanded Crona recoiling and clutching the last soul tight to his chest.

"Do you have a better idea?" asked Death Light looking at him in irritation. "I'm not sure about you, but when either my mother or father learn what I am they will try to turn me into a demon weapon. And since you're a meister, or at least have experience with weapons, they'll pair me with you. Worse, they might try to do what they did with Ragnarok and melt me down to put you in your blood, or whatever it was. I refuse to live life that way, and to do that, I need to get rid of them."

"But – they're your parents," said Crona and Death Light looked down her nose at him. He flinched, he didn't really need to know what she would say next, it was written on her face. They had both lived up under the hand of a witch. Death Light might have been abandoned early, as happened to all children of witches, but she had still spent the first part of her life under her mother. Experiencing abuse under the pretense of training. No, she would know that to a witch a child was just a burden, something that had the potential to grow up and join the convent.

"They know I'm basically useless as a witch, which is the reason I have gotten away with these hideaway spells so long, but if they have a reason to track me down then my charms won't hold against them," Death Light pushed herself sideways on the broom and looked at Crona expectantly. The cross-dresser started to shuffle toward the broom, his body tense. "The only way to stop them from forcing me to do their bidding, or kill me because I won't cooperate, is to take the incentive and kill them first. It's not like they can be changed. My father's been a demon for centuries, my mother for nearly as long."

"It seems sad," sighed Crona as he sat next to her. The broom started to rise and Death Light snorted.

"That's life," the rest of the flight was spent in silence. Crona was starving. He didn't remember the last time he'd eaten, and the souls didn't count. They satisfied something inside them, they always had. This time it was better, perhaps because it was because he was a weapon now, not just the holder for one. Still, he was physically hungry. He could go days on end without food, but this was starting to push it. Combined with blood loss, exhausting himself, the blood transfusion, everything was starting to take its tool on his weak body.

It was times like this, he supposed, he missed Ragnarok. The demon sword might have been many things, but he knew that to live he had to take care of his host. Crona had hated his mother, by the time he was six he learned to tolerate her for Ragnarok, because Ragnarok had to care. It was the demon weapon that got him food, made sure he was dressed, cut his hair, listened to him, made sure he acted enough within the lines to keep him alive under his mother's forceful teachings. Most of the time it was accompanied by beatings and Ragnarok making a general racket. Getting food generally meant stealing, staying alive usually meant going crazy and killing something, listening usually meant calling him an idiot and beating him, but at least it meant someone who was there, who would take care of him.

He glanced at Death Light. The only reason she was sticking with him was so that she had someone who could use weapons. He was a weapon too, and if it was needed they could switch places. She needed him to complete her goal. Crona wasn't fooled. Death Light might have helped him, but that was because she was some sort doctor and felt an obligation toward it. Now though, Death Light just needed him to help kill her parents, kill his mother since now that Ragnarok was gone Death Light would probably be the best substitute.

Of course he agreed with her assessment. His mother had always used him. Even when he thought he had gotten free she had still come back, had him spy on his friends. But he wouldn't make that mistake again, and the only way to make sure that happened was to get rid of her. He knew that, but he still didn't want to do it. Ragnarok had sometimes whispered it, but he'd ignored him. Ragnarok overtaking his mother's job had not appealed to him. There would have been bodies anywhere, and Crona never would have lived more than a month. Death Light wanted to be left alone, she wanted to live in relative peace doing as she wished. But with parents that would use them as they saw fit, turning them so that they would only live if they became a subordinate or even greater evil was not a choice.

So they would track them down. They probably wouldn't live through the first confrontation, they would probably die getting there. But Crona couldn't really see living. When he'd gone to Death Light his only thoughts had been on the immediate, to get rid of the black blood, to get rid of his problem. But even without Death Light making him into a weapon he still would have had problems. He knew things about his mother, knew certain weaknesses, knew her plan, knew her favorite places, her spells. He wouldn't have been safe to her free, and he wouldn't have been useful to her alive.

He glanced at Death Light. A little while into their flight she had grown bored of sitting and steering in a straight line and had taken out on one of her books. He was bored stiff, and uncomfortable. The broom didn't allow him to scrunch up like he wanted to. He had no idea how Death Light got it to work, seeing as she wasn't a witch, but he didn't think he was in the position to ask. No, not while he was flying among the clouds, balancing on a small piece of wood while Death Light sat comfortably next to him, completely at ease with sitting on the small thing.

She wasn't going to take care of him, and it didn't sound as if she was above murder either. It felt like a life-time before they started to descend. Crona wound his thin arms around Death Light, to afraid of falling to think of the consequences. Death Light ignored him, even helping him off the broom when they landed. Everyone seemed to hide from them, and Crona couldn't help but agree with them.

Death Light was still dressed like a witch, with the hat, gloves, boots, and skirt. She almost looked like she was asking to be targeted by normal people who knew what they were looking for and technicians. Crona didn't really understand why she insisted on dressing that way, but now he must also look like a witch, what with dressing in her clothes and everything.

What looked like the chieftain came forward yelling. Death Light recoiled slightly before yelling back at a level that Crona didn't think was necessary. Crona could see villagers looking from their make-shift homes. They were looking at them, some high, low. They had beaten skin and were wrapped up in flowing dresses that looked as if it would be sweltering under the beating sun. Small children clutched at the tapestry looking in fear and awe.

"Come on Crona," whisper Death Light in Crona's ear, tugging at his arm to follow her. Crona followed with a last glance around. He couldn't understand the language, but he knew enough about body language to tell that there was generally hostility at their arrival.

"Are you sure that it's alright we're here?" asked Crona looking around at all the stares they were getting.

"We're only staying here the night," said Death Ligh turning her head a little to Crona as she answered. The chieftain looked to give them both a nervous glance. "We'll leave in the morning and should be out of the desert by midday on my broom. The chieftain has requested we look at one of the woman as compensation. I told them you were my assistant… can you do anything medically? Know anything?"

"I know how the treat broken bones, how to stitch up an open wound," said Crona with a shrug.

"Right, perhaps you should pretend you're sick," said Death Light and Crona sent her a weak glare.

The chieftain said something to Death Light. Who tensed and snapped at the chieftain. Then the chieftain huffed and stomped a little and basically threw them into a tent just outside the rest of them.

"Did you have to snap at him?" asked Crona stomping to one of the cots and curling up on it.

"He was being rude," pouted Death Light and glared at Crona. "Don't talk about something you don't understand."

"I don't even understand the language," groaned Crona falling onto the cot in irritation. Just in time for some more natives to come in. They sent him an odd look, and Death Light quickly started explaining in that odd language. She also made sure to send him a look that told him to keep in the cot. Crona eagerly complied. He was tired and he didn't really want to have to listen to the other weapon at the moment if she was going to act so hostile.

"Crona, wake up," Crona cringed and opened his eyes in time to get a flash of Death Light's ruffles under her skirt. He flinched at the pressure point that the girl had pushed to get him awake.

"Why did you wake me?" he asked rubbing his eyes and standing up, his hand clasping at his arm. "Are we leaving already?"

"No, night has barely set," said Death Light and hit her hand on the table. "Now's dinner, some of the women cooked this for us. I think it's Firgett and herbett on the side. Eat."

Crona looked down on the food. It was an odd spread. A slight gentle purple tinge to a bumpy wet lump peppered with spices of black, red, and green. The smell was something between tart and a sting. Crona sat down and took a bite. The desert had some sharp tastes that was sure. It tasted so good after no food that Crona wasn't able to properly taste it, but he was sure that given the chance it might have joined the list of foods he actually liked.

Death Light coughed. Crona looked up from his food to see the girl holding a book in one hand, a fork in the other, and a look of disgust and wonder on her face.

"Could you eat normally?" the girl asked, and then started picking at her food. "I mean, I realize that it's been a while since you had proper meal, but could you not moan in pleasure when you eat?"

"Sorry," muttered Crona looking back at his food and then glanced up at Death Light who gave him a quick grimace of a smile.

When they finally went to sleep Crona was regretting ever going to Death Light. He was either in life threatening situation or awkward ones. He didn't know how to deal with the latter. He was used Ragnarok popping up and defusing the situation. All Death Light did was sit and read her books or meditate. She wasn't interested in conversation or even being in the same room as him. She wanted to pretend that he wasn't a constant part of her life. She had been happy alone. So he went to bed with a few tears and a wish that time would backup to the point where he no longer existed.

--

It was the noise that woke him up and the ugly face of a demon that kept him awake. Crona screamed at the place the wall used to be and caught a claw that was aimed at his midsection. Turning his arm back to flesh he screamed away from demon. Is legs automatically carried him to Death's Light's sectioned off part of the tent. She was looking around in confusion, but easily offered her hand in understanding.

Death Light was heavy, her body wearing him down. He supposed it was because she wasn't accustomed to changing effortlessly into a weapon as most weapons were by her age. He felt the same weight in his hands and their souls connect and understand each other. He wondered if weapons could reject each other. He knew they wouldn't, not even with their problems, they understood each other on a level no one else could. But there was an ache he hadn't felt before. Something that wanted him to be wielded with her, not wielding her.

The demon came ripping through the door and Crona threw Death Light's ribbons in front of them. The red and blue wrapped around its arm and the pull got him on top and ripping through the demon in no time. Crona turned and looked up hearing cries. It sounded like the villagers were in trouble. But before he could help them Death Light slipped out from between his fingers and he looked in time to watch one small foot slip from between his grasp.

He blushed when he realized that she was in a rather revealing nightgown. Still, they didn't have time for this. Another cry, this time a child's split the air.

"Death Light," he whined and she appeared back with her pack. Crona tapped his foot and Death Light gave him a look that almost looked entertained.

"Hold your horses, we'll be out of here in no time," said Death Light and she was taking out her broom.

"What?" Crona stopped her hand, catching it and putting it back in the bag. "We have to help these people."

"We have to do nothing of the sort," said Death Light looking at him once again like he was stupid. "If they find us here —"

Angry yelling filled the air and Crona turned to see a group of the natives come through the door. Well, what was left of the door. Their shouting made no sense, but they looked angry. Death Light spat at them something that sounded less than friendly. She dragged Crona up and away on her broom just in time to avoid a spear.

They flew high into the air and looked down for a few seconds. The entire tribe was being ransacked. Demons tore through buildings and people alike all seeming to be searching, all of them acting without mercy.

"We should help them," whispered Crona.

"They wouldn't accept our help," said Death Light looking down as the tribe was destroyed by the army of demons. "They think we're the ones who brought them, they'll first turn on us and then try to defend themselves. The only ones we can save is ourselves."

"Well, maybe if you didn't wear witch clothes," snapped Crona, flinching at the screams coming from the tribe. Crona glared at him, forced the broom, and started to move forward and away from the massacre.

"Listen, they thought I was a witch ever since I came because I came in to rest at their spot before while riding a broomstick. It wouldn't have mattered," said Death Light in irritation. "Plus, I wear witch clothes for more than pride; in fact, pride isn't even part of it. I wear these clothes as a warning, nothing good follows me. I live in isolation because the few times I did connect with someone they died, and it was not pretty. I wear this to warn people away, because whether if it's because I'm a weapon or the daughter of a witch and a demon, I'm a danger to people around me."

"I'm not in danger," said Crona wrapping his arms around her.

"You're pathetic," said Death Light, the sneer obvious by her tone of voice.

"I've always been pathetic, but I'm still alive," said Crona. Death Light tensed and then nodded. They sped into the waking sun. It wasn't perfect, but at least he now had someone to deal with it. At least he wasn't alone. He'd make sure of it. Even if they lived through it he'd follow her. That was the nice thing about passive aggressive people. She wouldn't kill him, he'd just have to know how to track her down.


	3. Chapter 3

Music: Wonderful by Everclear

Summary: Ragnarok, Ragnarok is gone and Crona is left with a weapon who wishes she was a witch and who is determined to kill their parents. Crona is dragged behind her while not knowing whether his mother or former friends are going to be the death of him first. Combine that with a little romance, a lot of blood, questionable morals, and a new interest in anatomy and it's not surprising to see that Crona is way over his head.

Warning: this chap not much but an OC, whole thing… yaoi, smut (maybe), violence, yuri, cross-dressing, gender confusion in general, some characters acting like close-minded pricks, abuse, neglect, general family problems/hatred. AU, but after what will be up to you to decide.

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Not mine or there'd actually be strong female character. Belongs to Atsushi Okubo and published by Square Enix apparently (shrugs).

Chapter Three

A Place Where the Heart Remembers

"What a dump," said Death Light as she entered the room. Crona peeked his head through the door and couldn't help but agree. The place was old and musty, the floor was dirty, and the sheets looked rumpled and used. "I'm going out for a smoke."

Crona shuffled in the room and closed the door behind him. He was sort of glad for his girlish appearance, in a backward sort of way. This place was crawling with perverts and creepers, on top of that they appeared to be very closed minded, a few streets down he'd seen what they did to someone they called a "fag" and knew that if they knew he was a cross-dresser it would cause trouble for Death Light and him. Then again, no one seemed thrilled to see two people dressed as witches in their city either. But Death Light hadn't seemed to mind the jeering and occasional touching much as long as they got the room, Crona had flinched away from them but Death Light had just calmly gotten their rooms. Perhaps she had been flinching and seething inside because of their treatment and that was why she needed her nicotine fix.

There wasn't much he could do at any rate. The trip across the desert had only served to drive a further valley of silence between them. Death Light continued to treat him like some sort of unwanted ally. She needed him, but it was obvious that his constant presence grated on her nerves. Crona tugged at Death Light's clothes. Her dresses were a lot more comfortable then his had been. Then again, they had been kept a lot cleaner.

He still didn't like her idea though. She wanted to kill their parents. Well, his mother, her mother and father. He'd rather find some way to disappear. If only Death Light would let her disguise as a witch fall. She wasn't one, she was a weapon, and if she really wanted associated with witches she could have just told her mother she was a weapon and the woman would have probably happily and forcibly kept Death Light at her side to become a Demon Weapon. Sure, she would have been seen as a little less, but she probably would have been considered more than a powerless witch.

Death Light made no sense at all. Crona scrunched his nose and tapped his fingers watching Death Light stroll back into the room and heading for her bags. If the weapon would only drop the whole witch façade she could probably slip back into oblivion eventually. Then again, perhaps she couldn't. Maybe it was their fate, or in their design. As technicians and weapons perhaps they were helplessly compelled to seek adventure. Though, when he was a technician he had only wanted to be left alone, adventure had been forced on him.

"Here," said Death Light dropping a pile of books on Crona's lap. The boy poor let loose a breath of air as the girl then proceeded to check his vitals, making sure that he wasn't dying because of blood loose, or catching a cold, or anything else that she checked for and didn't tell him about because apparently she really lacked the necessary brain-power to do so. "I'm done with those books. So pick any you want to read and I'm getting rid of the rest."

"Won't you need them in the future?" asked Crona looking at the titles. Medicine, medicine, the body, serums, plants, medicine, well, she had a rather one track mind.

"No, I got the notes I need and the rest I've got stored up here," she hit her head and walked away from Crona without looking back. Crona pouted into a ball at being, for the most part, ignored. At this rate the girl would probably start experimenting on him since she had a body near her. Maybe he should remind her that he also had a soul. An opinion.

"I don't want to kill my mother," said Crona firmly. Death Light sighed and sent Crona a scathing glare. Crona frowned when she turned his back to him before.

"I told you we have no choice," snapped Death Light.

"Why not? Why not dye our hair, change our looks, how we speak, our personalities, and go as far away from each other?" said Crona, gripping at what Death Light had given as advice for Crona when he was ready to make his getaway.

"I thought this would be easier for you," said Death Light closing the box she was peering in angrily. Her stutter was worse than Crona had ever heard it.

"Easier for what?" asked Crona, he started separating most of the books out. He wasn't really interested in medicine, but perhaps knowing the body would give them more to talk about. He had always liked it when he finally had someone to talk to. When the weeks would blend together without anyone to talk to, his mother doing something important and would leave him in the dark. At those times he would be almost thankful for the annoyance known as Ragnarok, because at least he was a voice that existed to everyone else. Even if the creep had resided in his blood.

"I don't want to be away from you. I had thought…" she placed some plants on the rickety table they had been given.

"Of course, there's this connection, but…"

"You're used to having and fighting against such a connection," finished Death Light and put her head on the desk. Crona frowned and clutched harder at his knees, refusing to look at the girl anymore.

"I don't know how to deal with you," he muttered bitterly. "Why would anyone want to kill their parents? No matter how horrible they had been they're still your parents."

"Because if I don't kill them they'll eventually kill me," snapped Death Light banging her fist against the desk. "They'll use me and then dispose of me. I know how their kind works. If we have any hope of for the future, to slip away into secrecy, to never be bothered, they have to go."

"We'll die in the process," said Crona while looking at his knees. There was a pause.

"Then we'll die on our own terms," said Death Light with a hint of annoyance in her term. Crona flicked at an invisible piece of lint.

"No, I'll die on your terms," grumbled Crona and Death Light hit the table hard that she was working on. Crona glanced up and saw that Death Light seemed to be trying to calm herself down. The girl briefly caught Crona's eyes, took a deep breath in and then out, picked up some her notes and walked quickly toward the door. She stopped, holding the handle.

"I need to get some herbs, you stay here – or whatever, run off for all I care," her last words very soft and pronounced with a bad stutter. Crona picked up one of the books and opened it to a random page. He might as well get some reading done. He didn't think he could run away from Death Light, and she was right, he really didn't want to, need to remain was in his blood. In a way it was more restricting than Ragnarok had been.

Crona sighed and tried to focus solely on his book. It would help if he knew what he was reading. Well, he knew how to read. His mother might have been neglectful and abusive, but she had done a few things for him, taught him magic that even a human could do. These books though, he had never had any interest in magic, not really, it interested him as much as fighting, it was something he had to do, and the more instable part of him enjoyed it, but Crona himself never had a real interest in it.

But this, this was different. It could just be from wanting to know the science of how his body could have survived having Ragnarok in it. Hell, how had his blood been changed anyway? His mother had said she had replaced his blood with the melted Demon Sword, but from what Death Light had implied, his blood had not been completely removed but rather it had been mixed with his blood. Some of his blood had to be taken out of course, but perhaps the sword hadn't possessed enough mass to completely replace his blood, or she had combined it so that her body was less likely to reject Ragnarok.

Crona shivered while his eyes continued to absorb the information in the book. He remembered when he would start. No, the physical submission to having the Demon Sword in him had never been a problem, it was almost too easy let Ragnarok into him to take his abuse. No, the problems came mentally. Crona was not a violent person by nature, so reflex and need to kill had to be conditioned into him. It wasn't only that he was a coward, though that was definitely was a factor, it was also because he hated taking the life of something that made his entire body seize up in disgust.

Crona laughed and buried his head into the book. This was so messed up. How could he hate killing and yet be sitting here in this seedy hotel room and consider murdering his mother? He just wanted someone who would be with him, not because they had to through some weird blood connection, or because they had some use for him, but because of who he was. Well, or at least someone who respected his dislike for fighting.

There was little he could do now. He was already uncomfortable with how long Death Light had been gone. He had lied to her, to a point. He didn't think he could leave her. With Ragnarok it had always been a distant fantasy, but now that it had happened he almost missed the sword and the constant companionship he offered. Death Light was there too. He could feel her… whatever you would call it, echoing in the back of mind telling him that wherever Death Light was she was safe, nervous, and pissed off. It was probably best to leave her alone for the time being.

Then it hit him. He was getting nothing done. All this time he had spent worrying and… rambling on things that he had no control over. Was this what he was going to do when he found Death Light? No, half of him had been hoping that she'd put up with him, give him chores that even a human could do. Well, he had simply been given a bit of a disappointment; he could deal with the half glass half empty. He had dealt with worse for it and not come out worse for it.

Crona flopped backwards, the book off to the side, the pages bent and the actual book threatening to fall to the ground. He had come out of all his hardships for worse. It was only after he had Maka and found a little kindness in her that he had started to become more stable, to actually start to feel he could be a kind person and not just a tool. And then he had to go ruin it by just caving into his mother's suggesting and…

No, he couldn't be strong but he could fool himself into thinking that nothing was different by distracting himself. He could do that, he could put his mind to something else, something he was interested in and follow it while also following Death Light's wish. Actually, now that someone was leading him around by a leash with a plan again he was less likely to revert back and do anything stupid with his mother again… Ew, that came out wrong. But anyway. He used to play fun mental games that Ragnarok would interrupt and prolong in order to carry out his mother's wishes and retain an ounce of sanity. Now he had something real to focus his thoughts on and the prospect almost made him giddy.

"Let's see, you haven't run away yet, I was worried when your mood – are you listening to me?" Crona reluctantly looked up to see Death Light looking over at him from the doorway. He had to strain a bit backwards to do it, but he managed. She slipped off her boots and walked around to the front of him and looked down at the book in his hands. "You're actually reading."

"Yes," replied Crona and went back to reading. If she could ignore him when he wanted to talk then he could ignore her.

"Do you want all the books then?" asked Death Light and then picked off a limp black bag from her shoulder. "I got this for you. It won't hold as much stuff as mine, but enough for clothes and a few of those books."

"Perhaps the money should have spent on clothes for me instead of a bag," said Crona hesitantly and then squirmed while still staring at the black velvet thing Death Light had given to him. "Not that I don't like it, it's a very good bag."

"Don't be stupid," said Death Light she turned and went to her own bag, starting to seemingly take everything out. "I just saw it and thought it looked like something you'd like."

"What?" asked Crona and noticed that only two-thirds of the books would fit in the bag, even less if he wanted to put clothes and trinkets in it. Crona let a little smile skitter across his face, there was a chance he could actually collect trinkets now.

"Well, I mean, I took all of the things out before I took it," said Death Light with her back to Crona.

"You stole it?" asked Crona slowly and placed the thing off to the side. "What if someone saw you?"

"Well, we're not staying here long anyway," said Death Light defensively. "We'll be gone by tomorrow, the manager insists on it."

"Well, maybe if you stopped wearing witch clothes," muttered Crona. The glare Death Light sent him could have made Black Star quake in his boots. For someone who stuttered when they spoke Death Light sure could glare.

"No," she said simply and threw her bag to the floor.

A silence stretched between them. Death Light moved her things into little piles, once in a while switching the herbs, whether because she put them in the wrong pile or because she was changing the piles Crona couldn't tell. Crona himself sit just looking down at his book, fingers holding the page he was on, bending and twisting it as he looked at the black words, glanced up at Death Light, sigh slightly, and return to trying to absorb what he had really gotten into before the not-witch came back to their rooms.

Finally he just gave up and started to separate the books into two piles. 'Yes I'm dragging them with me' and 'no way in hell am I wasting space and my back on this book.'

"Plus, I'm sure that most normal people can see you and eventually tell you're really a guy," said Death Light under her breath. Crona froze and blushed and then got angry. He had gotten a backbone with the others, and he wasn't going to let Death Light control him like Ragnarok had. For one thing she wasn't part of him, so that while they shared blood, she couldn't suddenly burst from him and beat him up, or start his blood flowing so fast he thought he might explode.

"They couldn't tell, and I wasn't even really trying to hide my gender," said Crona and started placing his four books in the stolen bag.

"Why don't you call them by their title?" asked Death Light with her back to Crona, that didn't stop him from hearing the slightly cruel smile in her tone. He frowned at her and opened the fifth book and looked back down at the last place he had actually been paying attention.

"Why don't you?" muttered Crona. Death Light stuck her tongue at him over her shoulder.

She sighed and started to put her stuff away one by one.

"So, you going to be leaving?" asked Death Light trying to sound flippant.

"No, as long as I can keep getting books on anatomy and surgery, and you don't try to get me to wear more masculine things," said Crona. Death Light stopped what she was doing and turned to just stare at him. Well, actually she seemed to be staring at his stomach, and then she stood and started going through the process she usually did when making sure that he was healing to her satisfaction.

"I get the masculine things, but why the interest in the body?" asked Death Light while taking his pulse.

"Well, it'll give us something to talk about, and I mean, with all my bodies been put through I'd like to see how it can still function," said Crona. "Plus, it actually ended up being pretty interesting."

Death Light snorted and indicated that Crona should take off his – her shirt so she could check his bandages. "You like that textbook jargon. Most people have problems reading stories with plots with them, and I know the one you were reading didn't even have that many pictures."

"Who knows, maybe it's in my blood," said Crona with a shrug, Death Light sent him a quick confused look but didn't pry. Instead she checked his wounds. They didn't really need two checks in one day. Crona might not have much black blood left in his body, but he was still a fast healer.

She finished up and returned to putting everything away. The silence between them wasn't so loud as before. Now it was stilled with a strange acceptance that cackled with everything left unsaid that needed to be discussed eventually. Knowing them it would be after it should have been discussed and had probably hurt one of the two for not being figured and confronted ahead of time.

Eventually Death Light settled down with a needle and started stitching up some rips in her clothes. Crona stopped waiting for Death Light to say or do something and returned to his book. Which was his, he'd never really had anything of his own, not even his own body had ever been really his. So now he had this book to call his and his alone. Yes it had belonged to Death Light, but she had given to him with the assurance she didn't need it anymore so it was his.

"That's a bit scary," Crona looked up and cocked his head at Death Light's startled expression. "You're looking at the book like you're going to eat it or start calling it your precious."

Crona blushed and looked down.

"Sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for, it was just an observation. At least you seem to appreciate my gift. I'll just have to learn to ignore some of your more eccentric quirks," said Death Light and she moved to start undressing. Crona immediately transferred his attention to the book. He wanted to tell her that she ignored him most of the time anyway.

But at the moment he was more inclined to tell her that her quirks were more eccentric then his.

"We should get to bed, I'm hoping to get an early start to our journey, this town is a complete bust, they don't even acknowledge that demons exist," said Death Light and went to the bed while knocking her cigarettes against her palm. She was wearing that mortifying nightgown. He wished she had something that was less revealing.

"The sun's not even falling asleep yet," whined Crona and looked back at his book. He could feel Death Light's hard eyes bore into him.

"We're leaving before the moon takes it nap, let alone before the sun starts flexing itself above the horizon," Death Light informed Crona who blushed deeply and nodded.

The window split into a thousand pieces and one sharp piece lodged itself in Crona's uplifted book. Cursing Crona threw the book in the bag and only spared half a second to wonder why he would do something so ridiculous as putting away a book while under attack.

"Fresh soul," hissed the black being in the door. There, where the wall used to be, was a drooling black demon, eyes riveted on Death Light who looked to be frozen in fear. Her body was stiff and though Crona was looking at her back he was sure she was wide eyed and staring. The only proof that she had some sense when it came to battle was that some of her body had reverted into its weapon form. However the proof she had very little sense was the part that had reverted were her ribbons that were flapping out behind her.

Crona caught her ribbons and pulled back so that her body tumbled back toward him and out of the way of the demons wild claws. Death Light screeched in pain and terror as she fell to the floor in front of Crona but still transformed when the cross-dresser put a hand on her shoulder. The demon was on them, but it was too big and before its big claws had recovered Crona had gotten in close and ripped its body to shreds.

Crona ran to the hole in the wall and looked down at the town. It was being ransacked, women and children screaming, men in a state of panic, caught between saving themselves and helping their families or lovers. Death Light slipped out of his fingers and onto the floor, immediately going for their bags.

"We need to get out of here," said Death Light hurriedly as she grabbed her pack, not bothering to even think about getting out of her nightgown and then heading to where she had stored the witches broom.

"We need to help," said Crona and then looked back pleadingly at Death Light. "This is our fault, and you know it."

"You think that these people will be anymore grateful for our help than the tribes was?" demanded Death Light.

"Well, they only saw us briefly, and they might not even you as a wannabe witch dressed like that," said Crona. He still didn't feel comfortable with leaving innocent people out to die. Maka had always done her best to protect and save the innocent, it was part of her job, part of her basic personality. She might strive to better herself but she was always thinking about the people around her and making them better people just by showing them her own caring nature. She would never be able to just sit and watch the massacre or to run away from it, especially if she was the one at fault.

Crona moved away from the window to argue and another demon flung itself into the room. Once again the target was Death Light, and if these demons were meant to fetch Death Light they were pretty fucking stupid. Fetch usually meant bringing back the breathing body of the person in question, and not just the soul, though with the way they were going they would only be able to point out which one had eaten the weapons soul.

Crona ran at the thing, concentrating on his arm and willing it to turn into a weapon. He came down hard on the demon, but it was the blunt part of his arm that sent pain ripping through it, not by ripping through the demons carcass. The demon turned around to face the pest that had dared to attack it and Crona could see his life flashing before his eyes.

Two blue ribbons appeared in his line of vision. One on either side of the demons body, Crona wrapped them around his wrists and even as the demon fell upon him for the kill Crona pulled back and Death Light went ripping through the thing while in her metal fan form and fell into Crona as a soft warm body. Which was good, because it would have been embarrassing to die by the very weapon he was using.

"We leave now," said Death Light in a tone that room for no disputes, and then she winced. "As soon as I slap a wrap on my leg."

"Here, let me," said Crona and forced the leg forward before Death Light could complain. It was bloody and still oozed a stomach churning amount of blood, but it had been smeared on her leg because of her activity and probably looked worse than it was. He cleaned it up fast, some herbs Death Light shoved at him, water from a water bottle Death Light apparently dragged along with her, slapped a pad and wrapping, tape and done.

"Pretty good," said Death Light looking down at her leg. Crona found out that Death Light wasn't wearing underwear the hard way.

I don't know how to deal," screamed Crona backing up under the glass and wood covered bed to the genuine confusion of Death Light.

"Alright – time to leave!" said Death Light with forced happiness and grabbed Crona's bag threw in one of the hovering souls and grabbed Crona's arm. Death Light went to jump on her broom and fly as fast as she could out of the city but Crona somehow maneuvered herself in front of her. He stopped her but his heels were hanging off half in the air and he had to keep a grip on Death Light's hand so he didn't freak out.

"We need to help," said Crona and Death Light glared at him.

"What are you talking about?" Death Light demanded with her hands on her hips. "You're just as much of a coward, and I thought you wanted to avoid fighting."

"I can't just watch this happen, this is a massacre," said Crona as the building to yards away started to smoke and crumble.

"And can you tell me truthfully Crona that you and that thing that used to be inside of you never killed the same way. Killing ten or even a hundred so that Ragnarok could become stronger, perhaps you even ate a few souls yourself," said Death Light, her face holding disgust and superiority. Crona tensed, looked away, and then stared back at her with a hard glare.

"I want to make up for all those mistakes," he said evenly and looked Death Light in the eyes; she didn't even try to hold his gaze.

"Don't drag me on your suicide trip on the way," muttered Death Light angrily. "I've been a healer most my life, I have nothing to atone for."

"This is a suicide mission," said Crona and then he looked morosely at the floor. "Going after my mother and your father is going to get us killed. We are not strong enough. We do not know enough or have enough skill to do so. The only way we can gain enough experience is by fighting the small fries."

"Are you kidding me? We need to avoid all the fights we can so we have a better chance of getting to fight them," said Death Light.

"And I'm telling you that at the level we are at now we won't make it within a mile of our parents before they kill us dead," countered Crona.

"We are leaving!" shouted Death Light and made to drag him out of the hole and into the air.

"Argh!" Crona growled loudly in distress and brought his hands up to grip hard at his uneven hair. Of course since he was still holding Death Light's hand he ended up throwing her off balance and sent her toppling to the street below while she screamed and grabbed at Crona, who was dragged down by her.

A mad cackling alerted Crona that there was more to fear then just falling to his death. He turned in the air in some sort of slow-motion he saw an angry demon coming at them. Though with a certainty he knew that the ground would kill them first, but he had survived the most traumatic things, there was a chance the ground would just wind him enough to be killed by the demon.

Death Light became a fan and Crona threw it hard at the demon. A second later his vision blacked and he pulled instinctively back on the ribbon in pain.

"Wake up!"

_This is familiar,_ Crona thought when he resurfaced. Death Light was looking at Crona with those wide angry eyes that told him she thought him to be a stupid burden.

"Come on, they're going to be on us at any moment. Can you stand? We need to find the fastest route out of here," said Death Light and threw her apparently empty bag over Crona's head and threw Crona's over her shoulder.

"We need to fight," said Crona and coughed. Something had been more than hurt.

"If you think you can fight with your injuries, just collect as many demon souls in my bag as possible. We might as well get stronger as you do stupid macho manly things. Guess I should be grateful that you're showing some balls," said Death Light and gave Crona a very sweet smile and it took him a lot longer than it should have to process what she said.

"You just said _that _with a nicer expression than I've see ever even seen on Tsubaki's face," said Crona looking in surprise at Death Light who just offered her hand with that same kind expression.

The next second there was demon falling against him. Crona gripped hard at Death Light and threw her experimentally at the raging demon. It ripped through the thing and with a scream it was killed. Crona gripped at the two ribbons he had kept hold on and pulled back. Death Light returned to his hand and he allowed himself a small smile. It seemed that Death Light was not only a ridiculously short range weapon but also a long ranged one. That could come in use; for one thing it meant he didn't need to be right in the demons face before he killed it. That meant that there would be less chance for him to be wounded.

Crona moved fast, the screaming of children leading him to where he had to go. The thing was huge and already swallowing one human soul when Crona saw him. It looked as if the thing had cornered some children into a tight triangle made by two inns. He could see only a few of them, they were all young, screaming, and scared, he wondered if the soul the demon had just eaten was another child's, perhaps the brave one, perhaps it had been a protecting mother.

Crona came down hard on the thing. His mother used to encourage him and Ragnarok on these sorts of killings at the beginning. Children were easily fooled away from their parents and they were even easier to kill. Crona had learned to embrace the insanity completely during those times. He had hated it. The first few times he was able to talk himself around the fact but soon he just accepted that he had to do so in order to survive. He would retreat into his mind, into the desert and circle himself, talk with the part of him and never justify what he did. He couldn't justify it, couldn't stop it, he knew that once he actually started analyzing the situation and who he had become he would hate what he would find.

"Hurry, hide inside!" shouted Death Light, the children ran, thinking it had been the girl with the fan who had spoken. Crona was already facing forward as the demons came down on him. They realized that an enemy had shown itself and most were converging on him. Ready to swarm and kill and eat the strong soul of a mister, something that would bring great power to them.

Crona threw Death Light into the first and soon was surrounded by demons. He hardly had time to breathe let alone catch the souls of demons. He tried to keep his head, his body moving and Death Light active. But this crunch of bodies reminded him too much of his last few minutes with Maka and the others. He could see them all around him with angry scowls, glaring down on someone who was supposed to have reformed and yet still gone sniveling to his mother and been the reason Stein had gone from them.

"Crona behind you!" screeched Death Light's voice. The cross-dresser turned and sliced up, the fan ripping through the demons flesh and letting loose a horrible scream as its soul formed in front of Crona. He turned… and found the rest of the ally only occupied by floating red souls.

"Where are they?" he asked the air.

"You killed them all stupid," said Death Light a little breathless. "You killed them when you were about a hundred miles away. I do not appreciate that, by the way, can't you fight and be present at the same time?"

"I wouldn't know how to deal," said Crona still sounding far away.

"Pft," spat the weapon and Crona looked down at the weapon without any real emotion. "Gather the souls and then we can go search out the rest of the demons."

Crona nodded absently and went to do as Death Light said. From the huffs coming from her weapon form he knew he'd done something wrong. He gathered the souls and was off in a flash, his ears picking up the sound and his body trained to high speeds. Ragnarok might have controlled his arm movements but he had always been the one who had to run away.

The things died in screams. They converged in on Crona and the only thing that kept him from falling completely into madness was Death Light's own half frantic comments. She was worried about how distant he was and if that would get him killed faster. Crona was pretty sure it might, actually, the fact he always counted on Ragnarok to keep his blood in, that he had willing let Ragnarok spill his blood to use it as a weapon, might mean he's kill the demons more recklessly than if he was sane.

"Hurry, up the steps and then I can see if any demons are left," said Death Light. Crona didn't really see how this was possible. The Sun had long fallen asleep and there was no electricity in the village to see the streets by, just the bloody moon. Crona decided to voice a difffernt concern however.

"These stairs are partially destroyed, I don't think I can jump the next gap," said Crona. Somehow the tallest damn building in the town had been left standing. Well, mostly standing, Crona thought it was going to fall by a strong wind, not to mention by his and Death Light's weight.

"You just defeated a whole brigade of demons," said Death Light. "You can jump one small hole."

"That is more than small," said Crona despairingly, but nodded and took a few steps back, and jumped. He slipped, fell a little, caught himself, and continued forward. "Why dno't you come out and walk yourself."

"We're here!" said Death Light happily. Rolling out of Crona's hold she unzipped her pack hanging down from his shoulder. Laying on her back she took out what looked like a pair of blue glasses and ran to the side of the crumbling building, and then to the next and the next all while looking over the small town.

"Ah, found them," announced Death Light and Crona looked in that direction in interest. He walked over and didn't see anything.

"How can you tell?" he asked.

"These glasses were specially made so I could locate my father's minions. Just in case he decided to hunt me down," said Death Light and smiled.

"Oh, that makes sense," said Crona. Death Light nodded.

"Anyway, they aren't in town, they're retreating and we have to follow them," said Death Light and shoved Crona's heavy pack at him and shouldered her own. Reaching deep into the bag she started fishing around the souls for something.

"What about the souls? What about the town? Shouldn't we help clean up?" asked Crona looking down over the mess.

"You think the Technician's help clean up the messes they make?" asked Death Light testily as she started to pull out her broom. "Plus, you think they're going to be grateful that their people were killed. They'll look for the first thing to blame, and who do you think it's going to be, especially when they find out he's been hanging with the witch."

"Then get rid of the witch outfit," said Crona, though at the moment all she was wearing was that horrible nightgown.

"Stop wearing woman's clothing," countered Death Light. "Plus, I'm no tracker, once we lose sight of those demons all we can do is continue on a straight line. Since the broom isn't powered by my own magic we're going to be slower than them and their already a quarter of a mile out the city. We are tracking down our parents after all."

"Right," said Crona with a sigh.

"Hey," both looked over to see a large built man. He was scratched and bloody and lumbering slowly right at them. "You're that person who killed the demon, and you're that nosy witch."

He sounded almost drunk; perhaps the shock was getting to him. Whatever it was had Death Light drawing out the broom and dragging Crona onto it in seconds."

"Hey," the man stumbled faster as Death Light took to the air.

"We need to learn to switch places," said Crona gripping Death Light's waist.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you need to learn how to fight with me as the weapon, and I need to learn how to change my body into a weapon effortlessly," said Crona. "I tried when the demon came, but I was unable to and just ended up hurting my arm."

"Anything that I need to look at now?" asked Death Light.

"No, I think they can wait until we can't follow them," said Crona.

"I don't want… perhaps you're right," said Death Light and Crona wondered why she sounded so down. They flew toward the bloody moon sharing the demon souls to substitute for real food. They lost the demon's by mid afternoon the next day.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: The reason I haven't been updating is that I've basically dedicated my life to my own stories, you know, with original characters instead of ripping off other peoples. Anyway, one of them I'm updating sporadically under the same penname on Fictionally. I'm not going to give this or my other story up, but updates will be even more sporadic and I'll only write when inspiration strikes. I found a song with cute Crona and thus I finally finished this chapter. Also, you might ask why I have a disclaimer disclaimer… because I want one, shut up!

Song: Paparazzi by Lady Gaga

Summary: Ragnarok, Ragnarok is gone and Crona is now left with a weapon who wishes she is witch, and who is determined to kill their parents, and not knowing whether his mother or former friends are going to be the death of him first. Combine that with a little romance, a lot of blood, questionable morals, and a new interest in anatomy and Crona is way over his head.

Warning: this chap not much but an OC, whole thing… yaoi, smut (maybe), violence, yuri, cross-dressing, gender confusion in general, some characters acting like close-minded pricks, abuse, neglect, general family problems/hatred. AU, but after what will be up to you to decide.

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Not mine or there'd actually be strong female character. Belongs to Atsushi Okubo and published by Square Enix apparently (shrugs).

Chapter Four

A Cure for the Mortally Wounded

They set up camp somewhere off the main road. Crona watched and poked at the fire where their meal was cooking and woudered if he could watch one time to see how Death Light had made it.

The food wasn't fantastic, but it wasn't anything to scoff at. At the very least it was better than the stuff Medusa had given him, when she remembered to feed him. But given the circumstances and what was available to them it was more than just edible.

Death Light moved around him. He'd been hurt a little worse than he had thought in the beginning but not so badly that it had slowed them down. True to what Death Light had said they'd headed straight. They thankfully hadn't run into any destroyed villages yet, or any villages at all. Death Light had started to get worried. It seemed that even though she said she was no good at tracking she had been also relying on the claw marks on the terrain to assure her that they were headed in the right direction. Now she had stopped finding them and was worried it meant that Medusa had relocated and now they were headed in the wrong direction.

She still had that annoying tendency to poke at his wounds.

"We'll have to stop by the next village to get information," said Death Light as she re-bandaged a particularly annoying cut on his back. Well, not cut, but nothing that had broken straight through the bone, it just liked to reopen and bleed.

"I thought you said villages were cursed?" asked Crona and started rooting through the backpack for his book. He'd already finished the first one, and he'd spent one sleepless night dissecting a rabbit Death Light had gotten him in hopes that if she did he'd stop talking to her about it. He had cried for an hour over the poor dead rabbit, and then another hour after Death Light lectured him about knowing better. After that he had kept the fire going as he took the thing apart and saw what it had been talking about. Though admittedly it hadn't been rabbit anatomy the book had gone over.

"We won't stay long, we just need to see if any of the channels know if Medusa has moved," said Death Light. Death Light had also taken to believing that staying in villages was in some way cursed. Crona pointed out that they had only been attacked twice in a village and that the first time had been at Death Light's unfindable home. Death Light pointed out that they had been attacked only in town. Crona pointed out they'd only been in towns twice.

"I don't think I like sleeping on the ground," said Crona and Death Light huffed at him and went to start dinner.

"At least you've only said it once today," said Death Light with a loud sigh. Crona smiled. And started to say it over and over and over again. Because he found the best way to keep Death Light from talking to the night sky or just not talking was to make her mad. Not that it got her talking, but, yes, here came the first stick at his head, the second, and then she somehow found a stump to rip out and throw at him.

"It's not funny. I swear to the High Witch that if you don't shut up I'm going rearrange you tomorrow so you talk out of your ass and piss out of your mouth," said Death Light and that comment actually gave him enough pause for her to get him in the gut with a sizable branch.

"That's disgusting, I have no idea how I would deal with that," said Crona and then chuckled a little.

"You are such an annoyance sometimes," said Death Light, but there was a softness to her that Crona hadn't seen much. He smiled at her and she turned her own laugh into a snort.

"You're surprisingly strong," said Crona with a smile. Death Light stuck her tongue out at him, paused, blushed, and looked away. Crona found himself gripping at his arms and shuffling to the other side of the fire.

The flames crackled against the wood. Death Light dumped some vegetables into the pot. Usually she waited for the water to boil, but who was he to question her culinary skills?

"Let's try it again. We won't be able try when we get to the town. They'll be weirded out by two witches. We don't need them to think we can kill them at any moment," said Death Light. She opened her bag and took out some sturdy gloves; the other girl was constantly saying she was afraid that she would cut herself. Crona thought she was being paranoid, weapons tended to be just as innately good at fighting. Plus, half the time Crona couldn't even turn into his weapon self.

With a sigh Crona shuffled over to a little clearing. A small section next to the campsite that was lit half by the crackling fire, and the rest by the laughing moon. Crona looked up. There was no blood, so no one close to them was being killed by demons. Perhaps Death Light was right, maybe the coordinates had changed. Maybe his mother had moved and threw Death Light's father had moved the demons.

Crona looked down at his hands. They were long and spindly. They didn't look very powerful, and the scars the crisscrossed over the palms, over the back and disappeared into his sleeves. They marked every moment in his life, and oddly enough, not every memory was a sad one. They were usually bittersweet, but that was better than some of the damning ones that had printed themselves on his skin.

"Alright, let's try this," said Death Light and she gripped hard on Crona's arm. Crona flinched a little but tried to concentrate. He tried to make his body slip into the form that it had done thousands of times under Ragnarok. Death Light's gasp dug her nails into Crona's skin. With a wince he grit his teeth and he tensed. The grip immediately loosened.

"You can't do it," said Death Light while looking down at the ground. Crona shook his head; he had overreacted to her grip was all.

"No, let me try again, we need to do this. What if I get hurt and can't wield you? I need to be able to turn into a weapon and you need to be able to use me," said Crona and then offered his arm for her to take. She took his lower arm and shoulder in her hand lightly.

Crona closed his eyes and breathed out while concentrated inward. He had done this before and he could do it again. His body shifted, not painfully, but in a sideways motion that had nothing to do with another mind affecting him. So he was in complete control, except for the fact that he couldn't move. Maybe he should move forward. He could become a fan, but after he became a fan with extensions he couldn't do anything. There was some instinct to use and bend the ribbons, but the fan part of him was stuck where it lay on the grass.

Crona took time to just look into the night sky. It was rather pretty. There was a darkness that faded around the little yellow pinpoints. He couldn't see the moon, and for that he was glad. The moon always made the night sky morbid, without it; there was a stillness to it. Without the mood there was nothing the sky cared about on earth. Those little pinpricks didn't care about the ongoing war between witches and meisters. They wouldn't blink an eye if he became a demon weapon, if he left Death Light and never looked back, if he just stopped caring, if he died.

The grass bent painfully as sharp edges changed soft and they were covered by a thin body. The sky was less peaceful when Crona was in his human form.

"Hey, Crona, you ready for soup?" called Death Light. Crona sighed and stood up. He glanced down at the dress. He knew it was comfortable and he shouldn't complain, but even without the hat, puffy underskirt, gloves, and boots it still made him look like a witch.

The weapon sighed and walked over to Death Light, taking the offering of soup she had raised without a thank you since she seemed distracted. Crona took a few minutes to watch her from where he sat. He wanted to ask her if they actually had enough money to stay in town but she was at one of her concoctions again.

They couldn't trade bags anymore. It seemed that the one Death Light had been custom made by some warlock that had odd her mother a favor. There were five compartments with a lot of empty space, and two of them could store things that couldn't stand much jostling around. So, naturally, Death Light was growing plants. The special ones that served her purpose as a doctor. Witch of the body, what a joke.

"Eat up or I'll shove the spoon down your condescending throat," said Death Light distractedly as the stirred whatever new concoction was in her pot. He wondered what she really accomplished by doing it or how she knew one of her potions had worked. Crona had only seen her put the stuff in a vile once, the rest of the time she ended up dumping it silently or while grumbling about lack of resources.

The soup was good today. It was the same rabbit meat and water, but Death Light had added different herbs this time and they tasted a tight bit more salty against his tongue. The cross-dresser actually ended up licking the bowl before putting it to the side with Death Light's for him to clean in the morning. It was dark and it would be stupid for either of them to go out in the dark alone.

Crona felt quite content as he curled around his bag next to the fire just as Death Light was putting around her warding stones so she could also get some sleep.

Crona woke up fifteen times through the course of the night. In what was perhaps seven hours he got maybe an hour and a half of sleep. His dreams would wake him up, a rustling leaf, a sudden jolt through his system, a distortion of time, all of it had him sitting straight up with a scream or sweating skin. If didn't help that Death Light had become the fart machine. He was quite serious on this. Whenever he woke up part of the reason he couldn't fall to sleep were the small and not so small toots and the smell. Finally the weapon let out the mother of all farts that had the dead embers sparking a little in its wake, scaring a squirrel, and tried to suffocate Crona until he bolted like a hound out of hell into the open spot outside the warding where he fell as a weapon on the ground.

That was disgusting. What the hell was wrong with this night? With sleepy conviction he fell back to sleep hoping the smell didn't reach him. He woke up fifteen minutes later in his human form, not because the smell had reached him, but because he woke up. Crona hit his head against the soft ground. That did absolutely nothing for him. He was tired, and yet his mind couldn't seem to settle down long enough for him to get enough sleep.

In the morning Crona chipped the bowl and lost a spoon. He ran into a tree and tried to eat a snake. Death Light had asked him what's wrong and then wouldn't stop drilling him until he told her every symptom, then she'd shoved something in his mouth. Gave him some herbs so he wouldn't fall asleep walking to the village. Since apparently they would be walking even with Death Light's witch hat gave the impression they were a couple of wandering witches.

Crona sipped at his soup without a spoon and frowned. It wasn't as salty as yesterday, not by half. After such a long night he wanted something that he could indulge in.

"So, how did you do yesterday?" asked Death Light while she ate her own soup. Did they always have to have soup?

"I got my hand to change," said Crona.

"That's improvement. We'll try going all the way when we're out of the town then?" asked Death Light as she finished the soup and started packing. They'd wash the dishes again when they crossed the river. It was hardly a five minute walk to the city from there. If they're eyes hadn't lied. Someone had probably seen them fly on that broomstick.

Crona's hope of invisibility was crushed.

But really, why couldn't Death Light have used the same stuff as the last time? This was good and all that, but the salty herbs the night before had…

"Death Light…" said Crona as they started heading out. She didn't even glance at him. Her notes were already out and she seemed to be scribbling even more furiously than before. "Death Light."

Death Light hummed at her name as if she was paying attention.

"What did you put in the soup last night?" she continued to pretend she hadn't heard him. Crona glared at her back. "Because it made you fart like there was no tomorrow."

Death Light stiffened, her pen still scribbling but her cheeks as red as anything.

"Why do you think I moved so far away? You farted so much I could hardly breathe," said Crona.

"Alright, I get it," snapped Death Light facing Crona and then she looked away from the boy's glare. Not because it was intimidating, but because it was justified, and she'd just given herself away.

"I'm not an experiment," said Crona.

"Right, right," said Death Light, now pretending to be completely into her notes once again. Crona huffed a little and crossed his arms. More and more people started to appear on the road with them. Crona took to following hardly an inch behind Death Light partly out of fear, and partly because she kept almost running into things by not paying attention to the road. Crona glared at her back as he steered her away from the evil looking horse and it's grumpy owner. The man on its back gave Crona a leering smile and he picked up his speed until they had successfully infiltrated the city.

"Death Light," said Crona, poking at the girl. "Death Light, we're here."

"Hm?" the weapon finally surfaced from her notes. "Oh." And the notes were gone. "Alright, you stay here Crona, I'm going to go find information. Sorry, we actually don't have enough money for a room yet. I'll pick some up on the way. We might need to stay here for a few days after all."

"I thought you disliked cities," said Crona and sat down when Death Light pushed him. He wondered why she was leaving him in such a busy section. There was a chance she'd just try to leave him, and try to slip away by distracting him with all the people around making noise, but that would be stupid and hypocritical. For one thing Crona could feel in his soul the general location of where Death Light was because of the weird flow of emotions. He'd actually need a knock to the head and an engaging fight to not be able to constantly tell where she was, and hopefully if he was in a fight Death Light would be with him in one form or another.

A slight 'humph' had the pale boy looking up. A little girl stood there, her hands on her hips, and looked at him expectantly. Crona looked down on the insignificant little coin and then back at the girl questionably, they stared at each other, and when the girl wasn't forthcoming with information, Crona put his head back o his knees. The sound of a sigh had Crona relaxing, now he could back to tracking Death Light with his mind. Two more coins hit the stone walkway.

"Perform!" said the little thing. Crona looked up and saw that the girl was definitely looking for more than him looking up. Well, this was an interesting way to earn money. Even if he was being mistaken for some street performer. Crona wasn't sure what to do, exactly. He'd never seen a play or stayed anywhere where normal people were acting. Whenever he'd gone the town had already mostly been wiped out or he'd kept his head and tried not to look at anything. Generally everything was dead or running scared. Ragnarok had had that effect on everyone.

Crona sighed, lifted his hand, and when the little girl started to look disappointed, he made it slip into its shape of a fan, and then sat the way he'd been sitting before. More money hit the side walk. He glanced up with one eye.

"Again, bigger!" demanded the little girl and Crona could see that one of her teeth were missing. Crona smiled and this time made two hands turn into fans. The 'again, bigger' demands kept coming until Crona was actually doing an improvised dance with both hands as fans and a little ribbon thrown in. He felt like a klutz, but the girl was suitably entertained.

"Oh no, I'm out," said the girl and looked sadly down at where her money used to be. Crona caught her eye and winked before hiding in his knees.

"Sakura, Sakura darling, where are you?" asked a kindly but frantic female voice. Crona wondered how long it had taken Sakura's mother to figure out that her daughter was missing. "Sakura, I told you to get something nice with the money mommy gave you. Not to dump it all on the ground."

"I was watching the street performer," said the little girl. Crona heard the woman pause and then huff in disgust. He tried to keep completely still. Maybe she'd want to see the performer who'd coaxed all the money out of her daughter. That would be nice. The more money he was able to get out of these people, the less that Death Light would have to steal.

"Well, I'm sure he won't mind us taking it all back. Really, the nerve of some people. Taking all of a little girl's money, well, I'm sure he'll see the justice I'm doing in taking it back," said the woman, and Crona tried to keep still. He wasn't about to fight the woman from her money. He wasn't really a street performer, and he really didn't want to get in trouble with the local law enforcement.

"No mommy, you can't take his money, he earned it," said the little girl and Crona's twitched from behind his knees.

"Street performers don't earn anything. Lazy good for nothings should get a real job instead of annoying good people," snapped the woman. There was the sound of some money hitting the ground caught Crona's ear over the tears the little girl had started to cry over her mother.

The cross-dresser looked up. He couldn't actually tell if that had had happened, but he didn't care. Even if the extra person hadn't thrown him some change, he wanted to prove the woman. He was sick of doing things and not getting credit for it, or simply being seen as the enemy. He wanted to prove to this woman that he was worth something. He wasn't sure where that want came from or how long it would last, but he would go with it for the time being.

Plus, they needed money. Death Light may be able to steal random things from people, but he doubted she could steal a room. Though there was the possibility she would try to make counterfeit money, and Crona would rather not chance having someone discover that before they left the village.

He tumbled out of his huddled corner and rolled out into a standing position. The woman in question was shocked and from the little attention he dared spare on her she was a middle aged, anorexically challenged bat with pink frill. He changed his hands to the fans and did a complicated sort of spin with his leg that had him jumping up in the air with a slight twist as he changed into a fan completely and then turned back right before he hit the ground, rolled backward, and resumed his crouching position.

There was a low whistle of whoever had thrown him the extra coin and Crona couldn't help the small smile of satisfaction that crossed his face. He had done it. Well, now he hopefully wouldn't be bothered by the bat with pink frills. Another tinkering hit the ground and Crona went into another roll and spring. He was mildly amused to see the woman standing there with her mouth hanging open.

He ended up performing until he thought he would die from exhaustion and his throat was parched and his thirst intense. At some point he'd almost broken routine when he thought someone was stealing the coins he'd earned by doing these ridiculous tricks. It turned out that someone had just gotten him some sort of bag to put all the loose change in. He was just finishing a complicated flip when he caught the glance of neon under black. He landed on his feet and looked to the side where Death Light had squeezed herself, wide-eyed and looking a bit spooked.

She hurried over when their eyes met and there was a slight murmur from the small crowd that had been standing in front of where Crona was performing. Death Light skittering over to him, a cautious eye on the crowd that was now murmuring to itself, some staying to see if something new was going to happen, others leaving because they remembered that they actually had things they were supposed to be doing.

"What are you doing?" hissed Death Light, her entire body tense. Crona frowned at her.

"Getting us some money," whispered Crona back. "You mind taking over for a little bit? I feel like I'm about to crash."

Death Light looked at him like she was about to bolt, or something like that.

"You don't have to say anything. Just change into a fan in certain ways when they throw money and stand absolutely still if they don't. Once the audience starts to filter you can start to repeat yourself, though it's sort of fun to make up new moves," said Crona. Death Light looked nervously at the crowd who were starting to look elsewhere for entertainment. She caught her lip with her teeth and Crona started to really feel how wobbly his legs were. That and his dress was sticking to him uncomfortably because of the sweat.

"Alright, but you have to do something for me," said Death Light. Crona froze a little bit, not sure what doing something for the odd weapon would entail, and not really liking how her stutter seemed to have gotten worse, but Death Light pushed a note into his hand. "Go to here and with the money get a drink. See what you can learn about witches."

Crona exhaled roughly. He was going somewhere dangerous. Why couldn't Death Light do it herself? But Death Light had already turned and assumed an pose that Crona assumed was her still pose. He turned and slipped away. He was sure that Death Light could protect herself if it came down to it. She was a weapon after all. Now all he had to worry about was finding a bar called Snake's Head and not getting himself killed or captured by his mother's followers, whoever they turned out to be.

The place turned out to be easy enough to find. He just had to head toward the gloomiest part of the city and then in the shadiest area was the pub. Any courage he'd gotten from his success was sapped away by the sheer evil that seemed to leech from the building. Shaking a bit, Crona swallowed down the lump that had formed in his throat, checked the piece of paper just to make sure he'd gotten the right place, and looked back at the creaking sign.

"I don't know how to deal," he whispered to himself. Stealing himself, Crona closed his eyes and started forward, and walked straight into the wall. Groaning and properly opening his eyes, Crona went into the bar, rubbing his forehead. He smiled at the bartender, who glared at him and immediately made him up something that Crona guessed would taste horrible, but have that satisfying burn that had always made giving into Ragnarok's whines worth it.

He sat on the stool for a while, just getting used to the feel of the bar. He had been to a few, when he'd had a homicidal weapon still part of him. He'd destroyed a few bars now that he thought about it. Crona set the glass down, ice tinkling on the glass. He let the foggy atmosphere engulf him, the smoke and low drone of the jukebox beat against the walls.

Crona's glass was exchanged for a new one. He was getting used to it now. The familiar odd silence that stretched after something had happened. Usually bars were this quiet and tense after a major catastrophe and death. Crona knew because he had gone into one after a massacre. A little and it pissed people off, a lot and you got this depressed silence of people who knew they were beaten and were waiting for someone to give them new direction.

The alcohol started to relax Crona enough that he felt he might actually be able to talk to someone without blurting out that he was going to kill his mother and then burst into tears and screams. He sighed and let his fingers curl around the third glass that had appeared in front of him and put more money on the table. He'd need more than the small bit of cash Death Light had given him to get properly drunk, but he was already starting to get a bit of a buzz and that was always nice.

"Haven't seen you around before," Crona jumped a bit and looked at the serious burly man who had just sat next to him.

"Just passing through town, thought I'd by for a drink, and maybe a bit of news on how things are going," said Crona trying to sound nonchalant. He stared a head at the beer bottles lined up on the shelf as the beady black eyes attempted to burn through his skin.

"So you haven't heard of the defeat?" asked the man. Crona turned sharply. He hoped this wasn't a technician hide out. It looked where the underlings of witches would gather, but you could never be too careful. Judging people simply by look had turned out to be a lesson in pain and trauma Crona wasn't soon to forget. "That's sort of fishy."

"Me and my partner were stranded early on in the desert. We've only just been able to miraculously stumble our way out," said Crona with a slight grumble. He tipped the glass back and let the rest of the amber liquid drain down his throat. The man actually rumbled with his laughter and Crona felt himself stuck between wanting to laugh with him and wanting to run as far away from the laughter as possible.

"That's bad luck, but perhaps for the best. If you'd been in the palace," the man shivered. "Only heard what happened through one of the lone survivors myself. Looks like that thing our lady was keeping as some sort of lover or weapon or whatever, rebounded on her and killed her. So now we lost our lady, and to make it worse her sister's causing trouble with some demons. Has a grudge over humans or something so we have to lay low, meet in places like this and hope a strong witch appears again."

"Hm, you know any places we should avoid?" asked Crona.

"Frankly? Here, for some reason. She's sending demons on a rampage on some of the smaller towns nearby, but it's been settling down. My suggestion is don't go toward the African deserts, that's where I heard she's made her camp in some sort of jackal graveyard," said the burly man.

"Do you have any idea where we could go?" asked Crona. The man shook his head and downed the drink.

"Damn," said Crona and swallowed the remainder of his drink.

"Well, good luck kid," said the monster and clapped his hand on Crona's back. He staggered away. Crona paid for one more drink and drank it slowly just listening to the dull drones again. He hoped he was acting normal enough. He didn't know what he would do if they attacked him. Would he have the same problems as Death Light and be able to defend himself with the weapons at his disposal. Crona stared at his hand for a few seconds before taking one last swig and standing and leaving.

He squinted as the light hit his eyes. The sun had sunk low and he'd obviously spent more time in the bar daydreaming then he thought he had. Death Light probably wouldn't be performing any longer. He hoped she was in the general area.

Crona stumbled over his feet and wondered if he'd had a little too much to drink. He had a really good tolerance for the stuff since it used to be one of the easier ways to fall into insanity and deal with what would happen. Even if someone tried to stop him, Ragnarok would then come out and cause havoc until everyone was dead and Crona would drink and Ragnarok would steal as much as they could before the cops came. Now he was just lucky that they served him. It wasn't like he looked older then he really was. Taller, especially in his tradition black dress, but not old enough to drink.

"Crona, a little tipsy aren't you?" asked Death Light. Crona blinked in surprise. Where had Death Light appeared from? And why was she smiling so broadly?

"I think someone slipped something into my drink," said Crona, talking out loud. Death Light looked him with a bit of concern. "There is no way you'd ever be this perky when talking to someone."

Death Light's smile faded and she punched Crona in the shoulder.

"Really. Doing that performance really helped to perk me up. We got so much money. Enough for a tacky room a few blocks from here and a bit extra to get some supplies and burgers for dinner," said Death Light, shaking her purse in front of Crona's face. "You forgot your bag, by the way."

"I found out what happened," said Crona shoulder his bag and then jogging to catch up to where Death Light had started walking away. Death Light looked at him in surprise. Crona shrugged. "I'm surprised you didn't. But the guy I talked to told me that my aunt is apparently defeated and my mother has moved her base to Egypt in some sort of jackal graveyard."

"They were getting a bit rowdy right before I left," said Death Light, her face deepening red as her hands wrung together.

"Oh," said Crona. Silence fell between them for a few minutes. Both of them stared at the ground and then Death Light looked at the sky. Crona glanced over at the wannabe witch. "So, are we going to head toward Egypt then?"

"Yeah, sounds like that's our best bet to start," said Death Light. Crona kicked at the ground and they fell into awkward silence again. Suddenly Death Light sighed and stopped. Crona turned to her, a little concerned. Death Light just stared at the gravel for a little bit before forcing a smile and looking straight at Crona.

"We'll get them Crona, and then we'll never have to be worried about being manipulated again," said Death Light confidently. Crona found himself smiling as if instructed to do so and he nodded. He grabbed Death Light's hand and started dragging her toward the street where he was sure some vender had to be out selling moldy hotdogs or the like. He wasn't alone, not as long as Death Light was alive, her blood ran threw his veins and even if she was reluctant to stay with him, she was still here and that meant everything.


End file.
